Is this true? Are you what you listen to?
It’ s different if you’ re an actual musician. My grandmother was a lovely mezzo-soprano, and my father was a trumpet player, a jazzman. Their music was who they were, rather than just what they did. However, like most of the musicians I grew up around, they only listened to music when they could give it their full attention. They would never have music playing in the background while they did something else, and I often do. Perhaps that’ s why I identify so strongly with the music I listen to— it’ s as close to the family identity as I can get.
Or maybe I’ m just chronically immature. I grew up in the rock vs. disco era, and this rivalry was taken seriously in my artsy high school. You associated with one group( and the subsets within) or the other, and the distinction went far beyond music— it was how one dressed, spent leisure time, dated, voted... you didn’ t have to ask anyone what they listened to because you could tell right away. It was written all over them. But we were teenagers then, and one outgrows that, don’ t they?
Years passed. Broadening my scope, I spent many evenings at the opera and shared an apartment with a ska band, and it was as raucous as you’ d think. The contrast was delicious. But my friends and partners were still people who listened to the same music I did. I would reject a potential date on the grounds that they had“ bad,” or worse, pedestrian tastes. Yet I ended up spending years with a partner who I once heard described as“ not an opera lover but someone who wants to be the kind of person who loves opera.” I realized it was true. But what did that make me?
Years later. I met a wonderful man whose relationship to music would have been a deal-breaker for me before. He thought Kenny G was classy. He rented a car and played whatever the previous renter had set the radio to. I didn’ t know if I’ d survive.
What didn’ t survive was his music collection. He defaulted to mine. It didn’ t matter that much to him one way or the other.
So I survived with my snobbery intact. And I’ ll still walk out of a restaurant if the music is bad. That’ s just who I am, after all.
Mason Jane Milam Executive Editor
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